


Hypnosis of a Demon

by clearinghouse



Series: Angel of Love and Demon of Lust [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brave Aziraphale, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hypnosis, M/M, Needy Crowley (Good Omens), Romance, Snake Charming, consensual hypnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 19:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Crowley has an insatiable hunger for Aziraphale’s hugs and praises. However, long-time demon Crowley still can’t bring himself to demonstrate his own affection for Aziraphale.Aziraphale doesn’t see any problem with this.





	Hypnosis of a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [apocryphalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphalia). Any and all mistakes are mine.

Crowley murmured quietly to the brown, velvet waistcoat that was currently serving as the demon’s pillow, “You know how I feel about you, right?”

Aziraphale stopped talking. He glanced down at the demon sharing the sofa with him. Aziraphale was leaning back against the corner of the sofa. Crowley had the angel’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he had seemed quite comfortable snuggled up against Aziraphale, until now.

Crowley looked like he’d already long forgotten why Aziraphale was currently holding Crowley against him on the sofa in the back room of the bookshop. Aziraphale, however, remembered quite well how Crowley had dragged himself into the bookshop with a ferocious swagger of his shoulders. Crowley had fiddled with Aziraphale’s pens and paper without writing anything, had flipped rapidly through books in the young adult romance section, and had greatly bothered the customers by silently hovering over them. Eventually, Crowley had sauntered a zigzag path to the angel and said, “You? Me? Sofa? Okay?”

Aziraphale had immediately understood what Crowley was trying so hard to ask for. It took less than a minute to close the shop and escort a nervous-looking demon into the back room.

They’d been sitting here together for half an hour. Aziraphale had pulled the demon’s legs over his lap and pressed his red-topped head to Aziraphale’s chest, arranging him into a comfortable position. The position required that Aziraphale spread himself back into the corner of the sofa, a relaxed position more typical of the demon than of the angel, but Crowley didn’t make a comment. He had done nothing but lie limply and marinate in Aziraphale’s embrace.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “Of course I know that you love me.”

Crowley huffed. “You sure? ‘Cause I’m shit at showing it. Can’t even seem to say it, today.”

Aziraphale wished Crowley wouldn’t think that way. “My dear, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You don’t have to say or do anything. I already know what your feelings are. Cuddling on the sofa isn’t how you express love. It’s how I express it. Hugs and hot cocoa are my domain, yes?” He softly caressed Crowley’s hair, moving his fingers rhythmically in circles over the scalp. “Is this comfortable? Let me know if it isn’t. I can move, if you’d like. I’d like for you to be comfortable. I love you very much.”

Immediately Crowley relaxed into Aziraphale’s reassuring touch, letting his head be ever so slightly rocked by the motions of the angel’s hand.

Aziraphale was pleased.

Two half-full mugs of hot cocoa were, in fact, sitting on the end table, steam rising from their surfaces. They sat next to the dark sunglasses that Aziraphale had placed there. He took one of the mugs and offered it to Crowley’s lips. “Would you like some more cocoa, my dear? Cocoa always steadies me when I’m in a flutter.”

“‘Kay.”

Aziraphale beamed. He stopped rubbing Crowley’s scalp so that the demon could take a couple of sips from the mug that Aziraphale tilted to his lips. Normally, Crowley never drank cocoa, but ever since Aziraphale started using it as a means of expressing his affection, Crowley never complained. 

It probably helped that Aziraphale generally added coffee to Crowley’s cup. He did so with the hope that coffee would make the drink more appealing to Crowley’s tastes. It seemed to do the trick. Despite the fact that coffee was a stimulant, the drink was effective at taking the edge off of Crowley’s nerves whenever Aziraphale served him some.

Mocha coffee, Crowley had called the drink once. Aziraphale had been surprised to learn that he wasn’t the first person to stumble upon the bizarre mixture.

As Aziraphale returned the drink to the end table, Crowley exhaled and wiped his mouth with his hand. It was the most movement that his body had shown since lying down.

“All better, now?” Aziraphale asked.

“I guess. Yeah.” 

“Splendid! Thank you for letting me feed you. You are so wonderful to me. You are so nice.” He went back to stroking Crowley’s stylish red hair. He fondly remembered washing this hair himself that morning. “I absolutely adore you, Crowley.”

Crowley tilted his head just enough so that his ashamed and happy face was entirely buried into Aziraphale’s chest.

But Aziraphale tilted Crowley’s head back to where it had been. “Oh, dear, you can hardly breathe if you’re like that. Don’t you like breathing?”

“Damn it, I’m about to die of embarrassment, angel.”

“You say that every time, and it hasn’t happened once.”

“I don’t say it every time.”

“Well, perhaps not literally, but you say it frequently. I am very certain that you are enjoying my company, and yet it still embarrasses you. It isn’t my intention to embarrass you. I only want to make you feel happy and loved.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Crowley groaned weakly. “I can’t believe you can just say things like that.” 

“Come now, I didn’t say anything untoward,” Aziraphale retorted cheerfully. “I am the pinnacle of propriety.” Nevertheless, he was enjoying the exchange immensely, and the effect it was having on Crowley. One might almost say that they were playing an old game, except that it was not a game in the least. Crowley often liked to make a show of putting up a fight about accepting Aziraphale’s softer gifts. It seemed to make the demon feel more comfortable with it, somehow. “It is easy for me to tell you that I want you to have nice things. Do you enjoy having me cuddling you?”

Crowley’s answer came out like a petulant whine. “You already asked me that. Half an hour ago.”

“Oh, but half an hour is a long time and opinions can change,” Aziraphale said vaguely. “Are you still enjoying it?”

Crowley hesitated for a small moment. “Uh, yeah. It’s good. I guess.” He sighed. “Yeah. It’s… really good. I guess I’m… pretty happy. If that’s okay.”

Aziraphale was very glad to hear that. “Then so am I!”

“It’s a bit ridiculous, though,” Crowley murmured uncertainly, though he sounded much less anxious than before. “You’re right here, but it’s like I’m paralysed. I can’t seem to do anything but fall on you like a rock.” He snickered. “Thank Somebody for gravity, huh!”

“Gravity,” Aziraphale mused to himself thoughtfully. Then he hugged Crowley’s lean frame more tightly to himself, applying firm pressure with the white sleeves of his arms to Crowley’s red-shirted torso. “Is this better?”

A quiet, contented exhale brushed past Crowley’s lips. It took him a moment to find the power to form words again. “Uh… thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Aziraphale said brightly. The angel was bursting with love and pride. This was going so well. “But about what you said, I don’t think it’s ridiculous. It’s very understandable to be wary of sentimentality, when demons are made and taught to run counter to the evils of true love, yes?”

“Eh. I don’t remember anybody Downstairs saying that true whatever-you-said is evil.”

“No, perhaps not,” Aziraphale said. “I suppose they must have talked about how _good_ it was. And that must have been much worse. Am I right?”

Admittedly, that one had been a bit of a sneak attack. It was no surprise when Crowley was stunned into silence.

“But it’s all right, dear. I understand. It’s all right.” Aziraphale rubbed Crowley’s shoulder. “There’s no need to fret about not showing affection. I’m quite impressed that you allow me to hug you at all. That’s already more of a blessing than I could have ever dreamt of. I have so much love to give to you, Crowley. You are a charming delight to talk to, and also a delight to hold. I hope you are aware that I don’t expect the least little flinch from you. How are you feeling now, my dear?”

Crowley’s breathing was calm and steady. “Good. Really good. Tops.”

“Are you relaxed?”

“Yeah. Uh. Feel kind of smashed.”

“Smashed?”

“Yeah, I dunno. Like I’ve drunk too much? My brain’s just gone and, pah!” Crowley popped his lips and cut the air with his flat palm held parallel to the floor. “Flatlined.”

Aziraphale smirked fondly. Though Crowley could not return Aziraphale’s hug, that did nothing to diminish the demon’s habit of expressing his ideas physically. Aziraphale didn’t mind at all. He thought that Crowley’s mannerisms were adorable. “Then yes, I would say you are very relaxed.”

“Ah.” Crowley’s hand dropped back down like a deadweight onto his lap. “Neato.”

“Is there anything else you would like besides cuddling, my dear? I would love to do anything for you. Is there something you would like? Please do not hold back your needs with me.”

“Uh… I dunno.”

“Nothing?”

“I dunno, just… uh… more of this?”

“Of course.”

Aziraphale held Crowley for a while. 

Before, Aziraphale had been talking almost incessantly. Now, Aziraphale grew quiet. He was already wondering whether Crowley wished to fall asleep in Aziraphale’s arms. It seemed like he might. That wasn’t a disagreeable way to spend quality time together, not at all. Aziraphale loved holding Crowley while he slept.

So Aziraphale hummed soothingly to Crowley. It started as a very slow version of a lullaby that Aziraphale knew. When that grew too repetitive for the angel’s liking, it became less of a melody and more of a cyclic drone.

Distantly, Aziraphale was reminded of all the times that he and Crowley had sat at the bench in the park, not saying anything, simply sitting close to each other and watching the ducks. It wasn’t often that they didn’t talk, considering how addicted each of them was to one another’s conversation, but sometimes it was pleasant to merely coexist, to listen to each other’s breathing and silently marvel at all the things that an angel and a demon managed to have in common.

“I like that,” Crowley said quietly.

Aziraphale stopped humming. “I’m sorry?”

“The humming. It’s good.”

“Oh, indeed? I’m glad that you like it.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m a snake?”

That confused Aziraphale. He didn’t follow Crowley’s logic at all. ”I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not angry or anything,” Crowley said. “Humming to a snake, though. It’s kind of obvious what you’re thinking of.”

It took a few moments for Aziraphale to understand. Then he laughed. “Are you talking about those instruments they use for snake charming? No, I wasn’t thinking of that at all. I only thought of humming a lullaby to you. To help you sleep.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Crowley grew very quiet.

“But you were thinking about it,” Aziraphale prompted. “Is there any particular reason?”

“Uh, ‘cause I’m a snake?” Crowley didn’t sound very sure of himself.

Aziraphale was at something of a disadvantage here. He didn’t know very much about snake charming. He didn’t think much about snakes in general. He hadn’t often thought of Crowley as a literal snake over the years, even if he had often thought of him as a figurative one. The demon was far more like a human than a snake.

The last time he went to India, Aziraphale had seen cross-legged men playing wind instruments to cobras in baskets in the streets. He had seen a few instances of dancing snakes in the cartoons he watched with Crowley, too. He knew that the act had something to do with music and waving the instrument around. 

From what Aziraphale could tell, the cobras themselves hadn’t cared for the ritual at all. Perhaps it was different for Crowley, though.

Aziraphale jostled the demon in his lap gently. “Is that something you would like to try, my dear? Snake charming?”

A curious shudder ran through the length of Crowley’s body. “U-Uh.”

Aziraphale’s brow rose. He hadn’t expected such a profound reaction. This was worth exploring.

“You know how to play a pungi?” Crowley asked in a small voice, sounding almost frightened.

“What is a pungi?” As if Aziraphale had to ask.

“It’s a flute-like thing with two—shit, never mind, of course you don’t.”

Aziraphale spoke carefully and slowly. “I don’t know yet, but I have time. I can learn to play one for you. Would you like that?”

Crowley avoided answering the question so expertly that Aziraphale almost didn’t catch the evasion. Almost. “That wouldn’t make any sense,” he said. “Snakes hate being charmed, you know. They think the pungi is a threat. They don’t care about the music. They don’t care about any music. The music is for the people watching.” Crowley stopped talking. His knees were fidgeting badly.

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale said. “You like music, though. You liked my humming.”

“Yeah… I guess. I do.”

Aziraphale gently cupped Crowley’s chin and angled him up, so that the angel could look tenderly into two yellow, black-slitted eyes. “And do you see me as a threat?”

Like a startled animal, Crowley jumped in his clothes. His eyes grew wide. 

Aziraphale thought that was very bewildering, and very interesting. “Sh,” he whispered. He stroked Crowley’s cheek a few times. “It’s all right. You’re only with me. Nothing to be scared of.”

It took a few moments, but the tension that had appeared suddenly in his demon did dissolve.

“That’s better.” Aziraphale released his face. “Why did you jump, just now?”

“I didn’t… I don’t jump.” Crowley looked down, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes, though Crowley’s legs and chest stayed with the pressure and warmth of Aziraphale’s body. “You surprised me, that’s all. You, a threat? You’d never attack me. Not even if I lost your precious Bible collection or something. You’re too nice. And you like me too much.”

“Hm.”

“Besides, you’re incredibly stationary. A snake gets scared of the pungi because of the way the charmer bloke waves it around. Any snake who got a look at you would ignore you and go back to sleep without a second thought.”

Aziraphale whispered playfully, “Oh, any snake?”

Crowley coughed. “Most, most of them.”

Aziraphale smirked. Yes, this was definitely worth exploring. “Well, then. If you like music, and you don’t see me as a threat, I should think that trying a little snake charming could be very fun. Do you?” 

There was a pause while Crowley thought about his answer.

Aziraphale thought about it some more, too. He added facetiously, “I can be the snake, if you’d prefer. You can be the charmer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Crowley groaned. “I’ll be the bloody snake.”

“You want to try it, then?”

“Yeah, sure, why not.”

“That’s not quite the green flag I’m looking for.”

Crowley huffed. “You want a flag before you’ll hum to me some more? Fine, whatever you say. It’s green, angel. The flag is green. Green as a, uh, a thing that’s green.”

“Excellent! In that case, shall we go?” Aziraphale softly pushed Crowley off of himself, and stood up. “Come with me, my dear,” he said, extending his hand out to Crowley. “There’s more space in the main room of the bookshop.”

Crowley only stared up at him. “Huh?”

“We’re going to try snake charming there,” Aziraphale said. “We need an open floor and rugs to sit on. That’s how it’s done, isn’t it?”

“What? RIght now? But how can you? You said you didn’t even know what a pungi is!”

“Oh, I won’t be needing any instruments.” That particular instrument would have to wait until a later date, when Aziraphale was more familiar with it. “I have my own voice. That should do for the present, I hope?”

Crowley didn’t move from the sofa. His hands were moving around restlessly, and his face was twitching.

Aziraphale was patient. “What colour is the flag?” 

Crowley scratched the back of his head. He gave his lip a good biting before he could give an answer. “I… I dunno…”

“Then it’s red.”

Crowley closed his eyes in agony. “Oh, shit,” he swore. “Shit. Shit!”

“Crowley—”

“No, wait, angel, just give me a minute! I’ll be fine! You just surprised me. Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go, I swear. I don’t want to red-flag. I really don’t want to.“

“Crowley.” Aziraphale knelt on the carpet of the floor in front of the demon. “Look at me. Please?”

Crowley did.

Aziraphale reached up and caressed Crowley’s face again. Gently. Lovingly. “My dear.”

Crowley was mesmerised.

“How long have we been friends?”

“Uh…”

“Six thousand years.” Aziraphale’s hand fell to clap Crowley’s knee. “We’ve been friends for six thousand years. Never mind for the moment that we were also enemies for most of that. We were friends, or if not that, we were at least very friendly acquaintances. In all that time, I was not afraid of you, and you never seemed to be afraid of me. I don’t think you are afraid of me, now. Are you?”

“No. Never.”

“But now there is something that has you scared half to death, right now,” Aziraphale said, “and I’d like to know what it is.”

Crowley grimaced and scratched his neck, but he didn’t say anything.

That was disturbing. Internally, Aziraphale told himself to be brave and push on. “You can tell me it’s none of my business, and I won’t press you on it. But if you are in trouble, it would be my privilege to help you. Are you afraid of snake charmers? If you are going along with the idea merely to please me, then I’ll have none of that. We needn’t pursue the idea.”

“No, no, that’s not it, angel,” Crowley finally said. “Fine, I’ll try to explain. Uh. Okay. You ever see a snake getting charmed?”

Aziraphale thought back. He recalled seeing several, both in real life and in fiction. “Yes.”

“Forget for a sec’ about what the snake is actually doing. You remember what it looked like was happening?” 

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes. The snakes appeared to be hypnotised.”

“Exactly!”

“Exactly, what?”

Crowley retorted incredulously, “Hypnosis!” 

Aziraphale shook his head. “I still don’t understand. You’re afraid that you will be hypnotised? Surely you know as well as I do that hypnosis is nothing to be afraid of? It cannot be used against someone’s will. As long as the person is an angel or a demon, then hypnosis will not work unless the person is entirely willing.”

“But Aziraphale, don’t you get it? You’ll be the charmer! If it’s you, then I will be willing! I’ll let myself get hypnotised and then I’ll act like an idiot in front of you and talk like an idiot and—ah, fuck, I’m still not making sense to you, am I?” Groaning loudly and dramatically, Crowley closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Hey, if you were a snake, you’d be scared shitless, too.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. He brightened like night brightens into day. “All right. I see.”

The demon’s eyes opened immediately. “What? You do?”

“Yes! Yes, I know what you are talking about. Oh, I don’t blame you at all. I see why you would be frightened. You see, there is this trick that we magicians use called stage hypnosis. Without getting into detail, it involves hypnotising somebody on stage. I’ve read a great deal of the literature on the subject, let me tell you. I’ve always despised it, though, because the poor soul on stage is often made to feel pain, or lose sight or hearing, or do something embarrassing. There is hardly any fun in that, is there? Fortunately, I can say with confidence the participants are generally stooges, but even so, there is still the appearance of one being hurt or humiliated.”

“Is this an okay time for me to say that I like it when you talk nerdy?” Crowley had taken to giving him a fond, long-suffering look.

“Sh, I’m not finished,” Aziraphale said, clapping his hand up and down on Crowley’s knee once more. “Please be patient. Anyway, those magicians all failed in their sacred, professional responsibility as magicians. They abused their power. The way I see it, if the hypnotised person is led astray, then it is a great embarrassment to the magician, not the participant. Theoretically, if I were to actually hypnotise you with my humming—and that’s a very unlikely outcome, might I add—then it becomes my responsibility to cultivate suggestions which would only do you good. A proper magician might suggest to the participant that he or she dreams of what he or likes best, for example. That’s my own personal standby.”

“Uh. So I’ve noticed.”

“Good! You’ve seen me treat with hypnotised subjects already, so you know for yourself that I am only ever a professional. You can trust me. On my honour as a magician, I will not lead you into discomfort or embarrassment.” Feeling hopeful, Aziraphale smiled cheerfully. “You would be willing if it was me, you said. Does that imply that you like the idea of being hypnotised by me, my dear?”

“What?” Crowley laughed anxiously. “How am I supposed to bloody answer a question like that?”

That was answer enough for Aziraphale. 

It was a little surprising, though. He’d never known this about Crowley. He would have to keep it in mind. He didn’t know yet why Crowley would want to be hypnotised by anybody, but he didn’t have to know the reason. It was something that the demon wanted, and that was that. 

To spare Crowley the difficulty of actually saying the words, Aziraphale asked gently, “What colour is the flag?’

There wasn’t any laughter from Crowley this time. “Uh, green,” he said quickly. “It’s green.”

“Then follow me, dear. You will be the snake, I will be the charmer. Doesn’t that sound like a fun game to try? There is nothing to be worried about. I promise I will take good care of you. And if you don’t like it, we can stop whenever you want. Is that all right?” He stood up, and took Crowley by the hand to lead him to the other room. 

This time, Crowley was all interest to go. He jumped out of the sofa and stuck very close to Aziraphale. Nervous, but thrilled. 

In the public area of the bookshop, there was an ideal open area of floor in the centre. It was where Aziraphale performed holy rituals, whenever those were necessary, which was very rarely. Today, though, there would be a very different kind of ritual. The curtains were already drawn, and it didn’t take long for Aziraphale to light a few candles to give the room the proper atmosphere of intimacy. After the candles were arranged and the mood was set, he pulled a couple of rugs from elsewhere in the bookshop and set them opposite each other in the open area. The rugs were placed close enough together to be touching.

Quietly and from the side, Crowley watched with curiosity.

“You can sit there,” Aziraphale said, pointing at the violet-coloured rug, “and I will sit here,” he waved at the blue-coloured rug. The angel lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged, as he had seen snake charmers do.

Slowly, Crowley approached. He stared down at his rug.

“Would you prefer a basket to curl inside of?”

Crowley made a vaguely pained face at the suggestion. “No. I’m good. Thanks.” He sat down on the rug, cross-legged like Aziraphale. “Uh. So, now what do I do?”

“Now!” Aziraphale took a deep, exhilarated breath, and grinned to Crowley like the entertainer he was making himself out to be. “Now, I make some music for you, and we see what happens!” Aziraphale recalled some instructions from some of the old literature on stage hypnosis. “I’ll handle everything. All you need do is fix your eyes on something, preferably something bright, like one of the candles, or if that’s too bright, the glare of a candle off the window.” 

If Aziraphale didn’t know better, he might have thought he saw fear flash across Crowley’s face again. But after what Crowley had told him, Aziraphale did know better. It wasn’t fear. It was excitement. 

Crowley nodded.

Aziraphale began to hum again. He closed his eyes and let his mind go back to the last snake charmer he had seen. He remembered that the musical instrument had somehow made two sounds at once. Aziraphale supposed that he could do something similar. He filled the air with one low tone from his nose, and with a miracle, kept that hum reverberating around the room without end. Then he hummed the varying tones of the lullaby again. The effect of the music was still not quite correct, sounding too light-hearted to Aziraphale’s ears, but it was close enough.

While he hummed, Aziraphale wondered. Today wasn’t the first day that Aziraphale had hummed to Crowley. It was the first time, though, that Crowley had mentioned how it reminded him of snake charming. It must have taken Crowley some effort to finally say it. Aziraphale wouldn’t let that effort go to waste.

When Aziraphale was feeling brave enough again, he opened his eyes.

Crowley was listening serenely to the music. While there wasn’t any indication that the demon was under any kind of hypnosis, he did appear to be enjoying himself. His half-lidded eyes were fixed on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale smiled at him. With magic, he concentrated on keeping his melodic humming from escaping the bookshop. It was tricky to not end up with all the sounds mashed together, but eventually, Aziraphale got a simplified version of the melody to reverberate correctly between the walls with the single background tone. The music circled all around them at a pleasant volume, not too loud to discourage speaking. Aziraphale ceased to make any noise himself.

Crowley was smiling. “Not hypnotised,” he said lazily, “but this is kind of cool.”

On one hand, Aziraphale should have been immensely pleased. Crowley liked the humming, and that was enough to delight Aziraphale. Aziraphale had never expected humming to be enough to put Crowley into a trance, anyway, no matter what Crowley had seemed to think. On the other hand, Aziraphale longed to give Crowley what he wanted most. The angel leaned forward and said, “Then why don’t I try to do it with a miracle for you, instead, dear?”

Crowley’s smile froze on his face. “You mean…” 

“Only if you are one hundred per cent agreeable,” Aziraphale said. “There would hardly be a reason to try otherwise. Even a hypnosis done with real magic will do nothing to you if you are not willing. Besides that, I would never subject you to anything that you weren’t completely—”

“Angel,” Crowley said quietly. “I, uh, I gotta tell you. I’m green.” 

“Oh. All right. Um. Just remember. It will only work for as long as you are willing. And you can always tell me to stop, of course. I’ll not do anything to inhibit your ability to speak. Yes?”

Crowley simply grunted his understanding. Like he was afraid to say anything more. Or he couldn’t. 

Aziraphale nodded back. Well, that was it. There was nothing else to do but to do it. 

Aziraphale steadied himself for a few seconds, exhaling, inhaling, tapping his bent knees. Then, once he’d gathered enough courage, he concentrated his magic on Crowley. A giddy rush jumped through the angel’s body as he started. His stomach was in knots. He had never done anything like this to the demon before. It wasn’t something he’d ever dare do to his friend before.

Judging from the way Crowley’s breathing picked up speed, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Memories of long ago thoughts came unbidden to Aziraphale. He recalled thoughts of how he might safely subdue Crawly if the wily demon ever became a problem. But, no. That wasn’t what was happening here. Aziraphale was not subduing Crowley. This was something else. Something more mysterious. This was for Crowley’s sake.

As angelic magic crept into Crowley’s infernal body, Aziraphale watched closely for any signs of holy toxicity in the demon. There weren't any. In fact, there weren’t any changes in Crowley, except for a few raises of his handsome eyebrows. 

The magic wasn’t working. It wasn’t enough. 

Aziraphale realised that he was going to have to work a little harder.

“Your eyes are fixed on me,” Aziraphale said, once more recalling the literature of others more practised than him. “Your ears are fixed on the sound of my voice.” Anxiety shook Aziraphale’s nerves, but he didn’t have time to get anxious. He was a professional, after all. He steadied himself. “There are candles and a hum in the background. They pass around the edges of your awareness. They are weightless to your senses. They cannot be grasped for long. There is no need to grasp them.” 

Crowley’s eyes changed. It was remarkable. Aziraphale was accustomed to seeing them dart about at least a little—at those times when it was possible for him to see Crowley’s eyes—and at present, the black slits inside yellow orbs were totally unmoving.

There seemed to be something in this. Aziraphale decided to keep going. “The light and the hum are a comfort, floating around you in the background without expecting anything from you. They are gifts, given without condition.” Aziraphale was already deviating extensively from any magician’s script in his memory. His own loving thoughts for Crowley had taken over the dialogue very quickly. The angel shrugged in his own mind. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be an issue. It gave him material to work with, and he needed some right now. “The lights do not look for signs of acknowledgement from you. Neither does the hum. They are the undying echoes of someone’s love for you.”

The demon’s small, lazy smile, which had fallen into a sombre expression, slowly began to return.

Excitement and delight crackled in Aziraphale’s curled fingers. It wasn’t very long ago that Crowley would have been in a panic to be so surrounded by love, yet Crowley was trusting him now. Aziraphale was thrilled to be so trusted. He bounced the tiniest bit on the floor, adjusting the position of his body on his own legs. Then, he remembered something important. “Oh, um! My name is Aziraphale.” He hadn’t introduced himself to his audience yet. Sure, Crowley knew him already, but there was the matter of form to be dealt with. “I am a professional snake-charming magician. You are safe with me.”

A twitch of amusement graced Crowley’s relaxed face.

That made Aziraphale smirk at himself, too. Not that he was trying to be amusing. “I am here to guide you to a place of peace. I invite you to follow me. I can lead to a nice, pleasant place. I am not here to force you down any path. It is your decision whether you should follow me.” That was absolutely not from any magician’s script at all, though Aziraphale was definitely taking bits from something he’d read somewhere. He couldn’t quite recall. He’d have to look it up later. “I am here only for your use. I am not here to judge you.”

“Let’s go, angel,” Crowley said, monotonically, as if in a dream. 

Aziraphale hadn’t been expecting any actual speaking from Crowley. The slightly trance-like quality of Crowley’s voice was fascinating, though. Crowley didn’t appear to hypnotised yet, exactly, but perhaps he was close to it. “Your words are welcome. They are not required. For now, you need only breathe.”

Crowley was about to say something else, probably something sarcastic, by the look of him. He didn’t, though.

“Breathe,” Aziraphale said. He sniffed the air in his bookshop, trying to find a scent that he could describe to Crowley. It was odd. He hadn’t thought much about the scent of his bookshop before. There wasn’t any smell that grabbed his attention. Next time, he would have to consider using scented candles. “Focus on your breathing. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. The air is refreshing. As it passes through the nose, you recognise it. This is a scent that is very familiar to you. If the scent is comforting, then allow it to comfort you.” That was very presumptuous, probably, but Aziraphale stuck with it. “It is the scent of…” Aziraphale frowned in serious contemplation. “... books.”

For a few seconds, Crowley broke into uncontrollable laughter.

Aziraphale, amazed, stopped and stared at him. 

“Booksss.” Crowley laughed like a child who’d just heard the punchline of a good joke.

Any understanding of what that joke might be went completely over Aziraphale’s head. However, whatever Crowley was laughing at, it didn’t seem to be anything bad or distracting to him. On the contrary, his laughter was adorable. Aziraphale would simply have to ask Crowley about it later. The angel smiled generously, making sure that the warmth in his voice demonstrated his total acceptance of Crowley’s outburst. “Your body is grounded to the feelings and the safety of this room,” Aziraphale said. “Your mind is free to wander into a realm of imagination, taking with it the comfort of the senses that are absorbed by your body, without being bound to them. You may close your eyes, or let go of your breathing, if that helps your mind to wander.”

Though he seemed almost sleepy, Crowley didn’t cease his breathing, and he didn’t close his eyes.

“Take your mind away now to a pleasant place. It can be anywhere you choose, real or imagined. I am guiding you. I am only as present with you as you wish me to be. You can make me a distant voice, and keep your sanctuary private. You can make me a solid presence beside yours, and have me walk beside you.” Aziraphale smiled widely and softly. “A feeling of total warmth and love moves with you.”

Crowley’s head dipped and tilted in a languid, drowsy manner. Aziraphale could only wonder what the demon was thinking. Yet it was not Aziraphale’s place to judge, or even to know, necessarily.

“The place where you are feels bright, and warm, and sunny. You are at peace here. There are no expectations. There is existence and acceptance. You may relax. You may lie your mind down, if you wish. You may allow your mind to float. You are free to simply exist in this place, in this environment of peace, in this paradise.”

Something like sadness weighed in the wrinkles around Crowley’s eyes.

The sight tugged at Aziraphale’s heartstrings. Had he used a wrong word? Never mind, Aziraphale was a professional. He would remedy the mistake without delay. “There are powerful feelings growing inside you. It may be that you wish to share these feelings with the voice that guides you. It may be that another part of you wishes to keep those feelings private. It makes no difference to the owner of the voice. Though your guide may walk beside you, he is beyond the reach of your words. 

“He may not be reached with embraces or other demonstrations of affection. He does not require such words or demonstrations from you. They are redundant to him. Your feelings and emotions are already known to him. He treasures those feelings of yours, and returns them tenfold. He floods your world with affectionate love and care. He makes it his duty to give you happiness. He offers a hug to you. He does hug you, closely, if you welcome it. He stays at a distance if you do not. He is as close as you to you as you desire him to be. 

“He has locked your own feelings inside your heart. He does not allow you to speak the words and to give the warm embraces that he himself gives you freely. There is no pain from the pressure of the feelings that have built inside you. They warm you and strengthen you. Your guide cherishes them. He loves that you carry such warming feelings inside you.”

Tiny specks of candlelight glittered off of the corners of the demon’s eyes, and in sparse spots down his cheeks. Though the demon’s shoulders and chest did not shake with any vocal sobs, Crowley was crying.

Like all angels, Aziraphale had the power to sense love. He had never sensed love from any demon, and he suspected that he never would. As far as Crowley was concerned, Aziraphale could definitely sense something. It wasn’t love. The best description for it would be intensely strong camaraderie or friendship. A few weeks ago, though, Aziraphale had learnt that there was also love inside of Crowley. It was just trapped inside of him. His demonic being had no sense of how to express love in any fashion, not even on an ethereal level.

It wasn’t just Crowley’s infernal nature that got in the way, either. In Hell, his mind had been conditioned to oppose everything that the angels stood for, including love. That left the demon with neither a mind nor a soul that could speak the language of the finer emotions, but somehow, with a heart that was still capable of feeling them.

It was very fortunate, therefore, that the angel Aziraphale was such an expert in the matter of emotions. He didn’t need to sense love to recognise it by its countless other signs. He had complete confidence in Crowley’s feelings.

“He loves so many things about you. He loves the way you talk, your fascination with all things human and mechanical. He sees how deeply you care for children, for humans, for life. Ah, and he loves the way you listen. The way you lean in, only to roll back in your seat with a chuckle when he says something you find particularly quaint. That gleaming grin he receives from you, that grin makes him feel that everything will be all right in the end, as long as he has you.

“He loves the chocolates you give him, the ice cream, the lunches and the dinners. He loves living with you, and holding your hand when you and he go to the park. Every morning and night that he sees you adds a spark in his heart, and already, his heart is gleaming and golden with them.

“Peace has suffused through you, now. It will stay with you, even after you have forgotten it. It will remain deep inside you, there for you to turn to whenever you want it. Your guide gently takes your mind back to your body. Slowly, you awake again, feeling refreshed and loved.” Aziraphale willed the humming to gradually fade into nothingness. There was silence. Not even the noises of the outside world met their ears. Aziraphale realised belatedly that he had blocked them from the bookshop from the start.

Life dawned in Crowley once more. The cloak of sleep slipped from his shoulders. Although he was at peace, there was a note of vulnerability to his waking that Aziraphale could not ignore.

“Crowley? How are you?”

“Angel.” The word was breathless, hushed, fragile. “Please?”

No explanation was necessary. Without rising to his feet, Aziraphale made his way to Crowley and wrapped him in a heavy, all-consuming hug from where they sat together on the violet rug. The demon melted into his arms, evidently content to do nothing but be cradled.

Aziraphale was glad for it. He treasured the feeling of the demon’s weight and body heat on the angel’s chest. The silkiness of the red hair was sweetly familiar to the angel’s affectionate fingers. The two of them stayed like that for a long time. If they had stayed like that for days, Aziraphale wouldn’t have minded. He could hug his dear Crowley forever. It was a deep pleasure to hold his dearest friend and companion, particularly when Aziraphale knew that this kind of intimacy was what his companion craved more than anything else in the world.

Inside the body and head of this demonic serpent was a kind, caring, passionate soul that Aziraphale yearned to call his own. Others might look at Crowley and see a selfish creature of Hell—and that included Crowley himself—but Aziraphale knew the truth. The truth made itself blindingly clear in every blissfully heated and engaging conversation they’d ever shared. The truth was, Crowley was a sweetheart. He was a loveable sweetheart.

One day, Aziraphale would convince Crowley of that, too.

It was Crowley who disturbed the comfortable stillness with an overtly flippant remark. “I dunno if you know, but when you charm snakes, you’re supposed to make them dance around.”

Aziraphale elected to purposefully misunderstand him. “A dance?” He held Crowley out at arm’s length. “What sort of dance is it that you would like to do? A bebop dance, perhaps?”

“What?” Crowley grinned madly. His handsome face was still streaked with the lines of dried tears—the remains of the catharsis that Aziraphale had tried to give him—but he was definitely his careless, buoyant self again. It was everything the angel could have hoped for and more. “No! Ah, never mind! You’re too nice to be a snake charmer.”

“Come now. I’d like to believe I’m charming to you, every once in a while.”

For a moment, Crowley threw his arms over his face and laughed. “Ah, fuck me.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. Pure adoration filled his breast. Crowley was so cute sometimes. His hands on Crowley’s arms patiently soothed those arms into falling down again. “If you don’t mind, I have a question for you, Crowley.”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Why were you hovering over the customers in the shop, earlier?”

“Er. I was trying to play a game of telephone. Get one of them to relay a message to you for me.”

Aziraphale tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I thought maybe I could tell one of them my, uh, my feelings. For you. Yeah. Those. Get somebody else to tell them to you for me. It seemed like it could work. I couldn’t get a single word out, though. I probably came off like a nutter. Not good for business, was I?”

“Indeed, not good at all!” Aziraphale agreed merrily. He loved anything that was bad for business. The fact that it had been Crowley was an added bonus.

Crowley smirked sarcastically in response. “Hey, angel,” he said. “Can I tell you where I was? In my mind, I mean? Or is that not okay? I dunno if that goes against the spirit of the thing, or something.”

“My dear, you are free to share as much of your experience with me as you choose. There is no reason to keep it secret, unless it is too personal for you, and you wouldn’t be comfortable sharing it.” Yet Aziraphale could see that Crowley was itching for an explicit request. “Oh, fine. Please tell me.”

Crowley didn’t hesitate. “South Downs.”

“Oh. Well. That’s a lovely place.” The South Downs was a series of welcoming, verdant hills. Aziraphale could not have picked a place that felt more peaceful. It was painfully obvious that Crowley had more to say, though, so Aziraphale said, “May I ask why?”

“It’s nice-looking there. Old-fashioned kind of nice-looking. Like wallpaper for a computer. And the night sky is good there. You can see a lot of the stars from there, when it’s dark.”

Aziraphale winced. He had made a point of bringing Crowley’s mind to a bright, sunny place.

Crowley must have understood what Aziraphale was thinking, because he said, “It did feel kind of sunny, I guess, but it was dark out. In my head. It was good.”

“I see. I will remember that, next time.”

“Next time?”

Aziraphale beamed. “Certainly. Today was such a success, it would be a waste not to repeat it. I’ll make sure to have a more suitable instrument as well, next time. It’s been a very long time since I’ve played a musical instrument. I hope I haven’t lost my touch. Doesn’t that sound like fun, Crowley?”

Crowley was speechless. Yet Aziraphale could see the joyful, grateful laughter in the demon’s wide, yellow, beautiful, one-of-a-kind snake eyes.

* * *

The clerk in Heaven was nearly finished with his month-end accounting when a startling string of receipts caught his eye. It wasn’t because the receipts were had already been tagged with yellow stickers. Those stickers marked them as items of interest on account of the identity of the infamous angel responsible for them. What surprised the clerk was the suggestive content of the receipts.

The clerk read the list of miracles aloud to himself. “Hypnotising a demon. Hypnotising a demon again. Mugs of hot cocoa? Oh, and more hypnotising.” The clerk scratched his head. “The angel Aziraphale was never the most prolific soldier, but surely even he knows that hypnosis is a virtually useless weapon. Hypnosis doesn’t work. Every angel ought to know that by now. No wonder he keeps trying and failing. What is he trying to get that demon to do, anyway?”

The clerk puzzled over the mystery for a few moments. “Oh! The demon must be making trouble, and Aziraphale is trying to subdue him. Yes, that’s just the sort of thing a proper angel would do. Good old Aziraphale, still doing the Lord’s work even after getting kicked out! It really is a shame, what happened to Aziraphale. He was a decent chap. Maybe a bit forgetful and irresponsible, but he had good manners. Can’t say that about every angel.” 

The clerk frowned. “On the other hand, I’m afraid he’s not going to get anywhere with this hypnosis business. Not without a holy relic that’s guaranteed to make it work on a demon, anyway. It’s almost a pity that we’ve got plenty of relics up here that would work perfectly on that siesta-taking snake in the grass, and Aziraphale can’t come up and get any of them. I wonder if I ought to put in a claim for good old exiled Aziraphale? He is doing our work for us, after all. Perhaps that makes him a… oh, what’s the word the humans put to it?” 

He leaned over his desk, picked up the encyclopedia that was sitting there, and flipped through it. “Ah. Freelancer. All right, Aziraphale. Let’s see if we can’t get you a holy instrument of hypnosis. Now, where did I put those application forms?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
